I am a retired high-school English teacher from Potts Camp, Mississippi. Life in general and my grandchildren in particular inspire me to write. I especially enjoy writing--and reading--rhymed, metered poetry and mourn its near-demise. I get a real charge out of parodying the famous poems I taught my students--while keeping a perfectly straight face and assuring them that studying such noble literature would greatly enhance their lives. I stay busy with a variety of activities at home and church. My work has appeared in The Lyric,The Southern Poetry Association Anthology, Bitterroot, The Road Not Taken, and other publications.
How Do I Loathe Thee?
(Parody of Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Sonnet 43 - How Do I Love Thee?)
How do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways.
I loathe thee so that I throw up on sight
Or thought of thee. And when we yell and fight,
I grit my teeth and plot thy end for days.
My loathing for thee surely takes its toll.
I hope thy teeth fall out before the morn.
I want to make thee wish thou'd not been born.
To see thee broke and hungry is my goal.
I loathe thee with the passion I once spent
On love and such when I thought thee sublime.
I wish to see thee living in a tent.
Indulge me as I tell thee one more time
I'd gladly pony up my last red cent
To have thee hanged if murder weren't a crime.
She flees the marriage bed so many nights
to satisfy base urges while he sleeps.
Undoubtedly, he knows not that she fights
voracious appetites and often keeps
a rendezvous with kitchen's sweet delights.
This is the cautionary tale
of Jerry and his wife,
of how nitpicking through the years
resulted in great strife.
A few examples should make clear
what led to an attack,
what one day made sweet Susie snap,
seize weapon, and then--SMACK!
"Hot water heater," Susie said,
and Jerry said "Drop 'hot'! If water's hot,
does it need heating,
my dear? No, it does not."
When Susie sought a "water fountain,"
her husband shook his head.
His smile and tone were condescending.
"DRINKING fountain," he said.
When Susie pled, "Please fix these things,"
smart Jerry would comply,
but first he'd say, "These 'things' have names.
You'd learn them if you'd try."
"Where are you at?" she texted him.
"Drop 'at.' . . . I am at work."
Poor Susie fought the urge to yell,
"You really are a jerk!"
His birthday card said, "Your the best!"
He mentioned her mistake:
"I like the card, but 'your' is wrong.
Now--where's my birthday cake?"
Enough! She whacked him. Jerry whined,
"Your stick made my head sore!"
She growled, "Be more precise, my dear.
It was a two-by-four!"
I gaze upon this sunset God has made
and ponder what it means to me today.
The memories of one's early life will fade
when sunrise times have long since ebbed away.
I lie beside my window every night
inside this home of many who, like me,
now face sunset and evening's waning light.
Our sunrise is a distant memory.
The younger folks who pity me don't know
the peace I feel. I seek the Father's face
each evening when the sun is sinking low.
He gives me strength through His unending grace.
The setting of my sun will be sublime,
for in the Father's bosom I will rest.
He's let me see the sunset one more time.
I close my eyes and know I have been blessed.
©2014 Janice Canerdy